43

Dinner was everything I’d expected. A long table, silver candelabra, enough food to feed a small town. Vaughn had been saving his ration coupons for a rainy day.

The room was designed to intimidate. A huge stone fireplace dominated the side wall. Above it, an ugly portrait of one of Vaughn’s ancestors.

They’d placed me between the two women we’d met on the Forest. Constance, in a flowery dress the size of a mess tent, on my left, and Kay, in a tailored dinner suit, on my right.

‘What do you think about the Jewish problem?’ Constance asked, raising her reading glasses in readiness to properly assess my response.

‘Is there a problem?’ I answered.

‘Namely that they live in our countries without considering themselves citizens,’ Kay answered, from my right.

‘Countries?’ I asked, spearing a piece of limp asparagus.

‘England, France, Germany ...’ Constance said.

‘... all the great European nations,’ Kay added.

I ate my asparagus. It was a first. Our greengrocer didn’t sell it, and I’d never grown it. Too much fiddling around with banking up the soil. It was gelatinous, and whatever taste it had was overpowered by the margarine. Even Vaughn was having trouble getting butter. He should have asked, and I could have put him in touch with Eric.

I didn’t respond to the women. I’ve found it’s the best way to draw people out, make them tell you more about themselves than you reveal about yourself. A matter of habit, compounded by my bad mood at being coerced into staying for the party, solidified by the sinking feeling that told me exactly where this conversation was going.

‘Hitler’s merely doing what everyone’s been thinking about,’ came from across the table. A vicar with a florid face that spoke of a life well lived.

‘He’s a brute, of course,’ from my right, ‘but one can’t argue with his underlying philosophy.’

I looked along the table for respite. Margaret was next to Vaughn, at the far end. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she was flushed, and he was smiling. Her dress was a revealing cut, designed to show off her curves, and Vaughn was having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face.

‘We seem to have it backwards,’ from my left. ‘We’re sending good people, from good families, to internment on the Isle of Man, because they have family in Germany, while we’re letting the Jews go free. And now we’re hell-bent on war, to protect them.’

‘I don’t know anyone who wants war with Germany,’ Kay said, on my right.

‘You would, if you listened more than you talked,’ I said.

That quietened them down.

I was rescued from further comment by the tinkling of a glass and the scraping of a chair on the stone floor, as Vaughn rose for a toast.

‘I’d like to thank you all for coming,’ he said, carefully looking around at all of his guests. ‘It’s heartening to be with so many friends who all believe as I do, that it’s not too late for peace.’

This was met with a round of ‘hear hear’ and even a thumping on the table.

‘As most of you know,’ he said, ‘I’ve been lucky enough to be involved in an organisation that’s been leading the charge on matters of peace. Since the early days, we’ve been a beacon of hope for fellow Christians across Europe. Good people, regardless of nationality and language, united by our common beliefs. A tribe of peace-lovers, we’ve been called in the press, as if that’s some kind of slur. Well, I accept that slur. I’m a Christian, and a pacifist, and if that means my beliefs run counter to the war-mongers in Downing Street and Fleet Street, I’ll shoulder that burden.’

He paused for the round of applause that followed.

I turned to my dinner companions to see how they were receiving the message. They were besotted.

‘I know many of you have been anxious to hear reports about our approaches to the King,’ Vaughn said. If -people had been following closely before, this sealed the deal. The room was silenced. Not a fork on a plate or a chink of a glass.

‘What I have to tell you now must stay between us. I say this with absolute seriousness. There will be a time when the good news will be shared, but until I let you know that time has come, what I’m about to tell you must stay in this room.’

Vaughn looked me in the eye. Where did I fit in with his assessment that he was surrounded by friends and confidantes?

Margaret put her hand on Vaughn’s. A nice touch. Vouching for me.

‘I have it on first-hand authority that we have a supporter at the highest level in society,’ Vaughn said. ‘The very highest level.’

On my left, Constance gasped. She wasn’t the only one.

‘I can’t yet reveal the name of our supporter, but I have his guarantee that when the time comes, he’ll be ready to step forwards.’

Vaughn surveyed his party. He had them hanging on his every word.

‘Until that day, we’re all to carry on doing our bit. Our supporter will be watching us closely, and when the time is right, he’s promised to join us here. Based on plans that I’ve become privy to, I predict we’ll be welcoming a guest of honour in a matter of weeks. In fact, depending on sailing conditions in the English Channel, we may be welcoming a whole succession of important guests here.’

This got a ripple of laughter, some of it genuine and some of it uncomfortable.

‘I trust you’ll join me in a toast.’

Vaughn picked up his glass, generating a rush of activity as the rest of the guests did the same.

‘To peace!’ Vaughn said.

‘To peace!’ everyone murmured.